Beautiful Spirit. Beautiful White Horses...

Today. A dull snowy day. Another one. Warmer than before. But still wishing for a little inspiration.

You plow out the long driveway. Again. And you run about doing your errands. You hope the store in the small town of Stamford, New York has managed some fresh produce. And thanks to Matt, the greengrocer - ( can you tell I'm English yet??). they do. And then to the P.O. Box. Hello to all the wonderful staff there. So helpful all year around. A caring bunch. You pick up 'your' mail. Throw it in a "recycling happy"shopping bag, a $1 deal, what a bargain and now you realize you really have become properly 'green' trained in at least one area.

Harder drive home than going out. 1989 pick up slides about.  4WD employed. But you live on a hill. You know just when to punch it. You know your truck and you've lived on this peaceful Catskill south facing slope for more than 15 years now. What?? Yeah, that time thing has supersonic speed when you hit 40.

Leaping black labs greet you at the door. Promising to break the Pella glass screen. Bounding. Untrained ( well just a bit), but in your head at 15 months old they still count as puppies. Seriously, must make some time to train them with the new 'dog halter' you purchased a year ago that now resides in the all important 'kitchen drawer.'

Open the recycled bag - mail instead of groceries flood the homemade temporary island that has stood center of the kitchen for too long..ooh about 8 years. And out pops two big envelopes. One, from the wonderful folks at the IRS who still deign to supply small business with actual published/printed manuals on their craft. 2nd.......another big brown envelope. I open it enthusiastically. I recognize the name. Juliet Harrison. Equine photographer extraordinaire.

I open it hastily but carefully. My mom is also an artist of some repute and I have been well trained to handle all art with due diligence and reverence. Carefully I extricate the contents. A black and white ensemble of images in a tidy book of 'White Horses." An adjunct to exhibitions. A galley of Baroque. An essence of true feeling for the horse.

A composition from a different eye somewhere attuned to your own. Juliet Harrison. Horse-minder. The tiny moments. The things we notice as horse people and as keen horse trainers and artists. There is after all, so much art in the eye of the true horse person. We see the details. We notice the hollow above the horse's eye. The health statement that it makes. We notice every rivulet of sweat after work. Carefully examining where and why. Knowing that as a trainer this tells us if the horse is being trained correctly. By ourselves. Sometimes a tough pill to swallow when your beautiful mount expresses that you have rushed. You have hurried. You have pulled. You have pushed.  When you above all should have done neither. But let be. Trusted your horse to be responsible for himself. As you give the same as a parent to your children. Your prodigy. Your legacy.

The moment of a snowy, dull, 'I Can't Ride It's Too Cold,"day is broken into a thousand happy pieces as you turn each page. And remember. This is why I do this. This is why I love horses. This is why I share what I have learned in the many years.  Juliet's images have touched me. Juliet sees. Juliet shared.

And in the package I also find a beautiful postcard. It says ' Pay It Forward Gift.'

This is my best way of paying it forward. Take a moment. Take a look. A good look. And however professional a trainer, however many kudos or awards you have won. Whoever comes to you for instruction. Whatever horse of whatever breed. Whatever rider of whatever level or 'want to be" equestrian. Take a look. And remember to share what you know with an open spirit. Because above all, that is what every horse gives us everyday.

My heartfelt thanks to Juliet Harrison. She brings us light, spirit and heart. Embrace it.

Note: Want to see Juliet's wonderful work? Visit her gallery at Equis Art, 7516 North Broadway, Studio 5, Red Hook NY 12571 or online at http://www.Equisart.com